


Pining With a Side Order of Courtship-- Done Backwards, of Course

by lielabell



Series: Between the Shadow and the Soul [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: BAMF Danny, Emotionally Constipated Boys, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, M/M, Pining, Secret Admirer, Stiles is oblivious, Stiles's POV, Twisted and Fluffy Feelings, Use your words Derek, jealous!Derek, this is pretty much just 4k of fluff, with a side order of angst for fun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-24
Updated: 2012-05-24
Packaged: 2017-11-05 23:09:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/412049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lielabell/pseuds/lielabell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles isn't exactly sure how much time he spends detailing the wondrous miracle that is his beautiful, magical gift of comics, but Derek doesn't snarl or snap at him or anything.  In fact, he seems oddly indulgent.  And does that weird scenting shit again-- this time just his neck, thank baby Jesus.  Stiles is sure that having a fully human Derek rub his face against Stiles's crotch would end in the most awkward and uncomfortable situation of all time.  So, yeah, it's a good thing that Derek just, you know, sniffs and licks at his neck.  Because all that does is make Stiles squeak.  And that's pretty par for the course as far as his interactions with Derek have been going lately.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pining With a Side Order of Courtship-- Done Backwards, of Course

Thing is, Stiles has never had a thing for Derek. Danny, yes. Lydia, _hell_ yes. But Derek? No. Not at all. Stiles likes his balls in one piece, thanks. And Derek has always given him the impression that he would gladly rip said balls off if Stiles so much as looked at him wrong, let alone developed inappropriate feelings for him. So... yeah. Stiles has never had a thing for Derek at all. Fear does that to a person.

Not that Stiles is afraid of Derek, per se. He's not. Two and a half years of knowing a guy sort of makes you immune to their Fear Factor. Just that, well, Stiles knows his place in the pack -- Omega or whatever, though not in that disturbing boys-getting-preggers way the internet likes to dream up, no. Not that at all. Omega in the weakest-and-slowest-and-smallest way, the _wolf_ -wolves way. Although, really, Stiles is human and not wolf anything at all and so can't really be an Omega in the pack, but whatever. It's the closest to what he is --somewhat useful human with bomb ass research skills and a car he doesn't mind werewolves shedding all over after runs on the full moon-- so he embraces it. But, whatever. Not the point. The point is that Stiles is the lowest ranking wolf in their pack and doesn't rate so much as a second look from their Alpha on the best of days, days where Stiles hasn't done anything crazy or stupid at all, and not much more than a snarl and a shove up against a wall on the not so good days. You know, basic "yes, yes, I know you are there and that you are annoying, but the research skills and the car make up for it so I won't rip your throat out just yet" behavior. Which Stiles understands and respects. 

But lately things have been a little off. Weird in ways that they normally aren't. Derek's been _scenting_ him. 

Which would be super fun times if Stiles had a thing for Derek, but, as previously stated, Stiles does not. So... awkward. Super awkward. And Stiles doesn't know what to do about it at all.

Because... Isn't scenting what mates do to each other? 

That's what Stiles thought anyway. And, um, mate and Derek and _Stiles_ are not three words that belong together for any reason at all.

Which probably means that Stiles is totally reading this the wrong way or something. But... um... what else is an Alpha wolf nose pressed against his balls supposed to mean? If there is some other explanation, then Stiles would really, really like to have it. Okay universe? Can you hear that? It's Stiles, asking for a favor. Could you please, possibly send someone to explain what the fuck is going on?

Yeah... Somehow he knew that one wasn't going to work at all. 

*

Since the universe is being a bitch and not providing for him, Stiles is just going to have to muddle through this on his own. And that means going to Danny. Because somehow Danny has become his go-to guy. Weird, right? But then, most of Stiles's life is weird these days and having his big gay crush turn into his bro doesn't even make his Top Ten Weirdest Moments list. Hell, it doesn't even make his Top Fifty. 

So, yeah. Stiles does what Stiles does best, he calls Danny. Who actually answers, because it's a Tuesday night and even hot gay frat boys have to study sometime and Tuesday nights, well they are the best nights for studying. Or something. Stiles thinks that if he had actually bothered to go to a real college instead of just, you know, cruising by at the local J.C., he might understand it better. But going to a real college meant not being with his pack and ef the hell out of that. Pack comes first. Even if, you know, he's not a wolf. Whatever, it's still his pack and they _need_ him. And so does his dad, for that matter, because his dad would totally fall off the heart healthy waggon the second Stiles let him out of his sight.

Wow. Tangent much? 

Anyway, Stiles calls Danny and Danny answers and Danny listens to Stiles babble about Tuesday nights and the local J.C. and the pack and his dad's need to clog his arteries before cutting him off and asking him what the point of this phone call is. 

And Stiles says, "Dude, Derek was sniffing my crotch. What the fuck. I'm talking full on nose to balls action here. Not cool, Danny my man. Not cool at all."

And Danny, Danny _laughs._ Because Danny is a dick who enjoys Stiles's misery. And when Stiles tells him as much, Danny just laughs some more and says something that sounds like "finally" but when Stiles presses him, Danny just laughs harder and, well, Stiles hangs up on him because clearly that conversation is going nowhere.

*

The next day there are comic books. Seriously. _Comic books._ And not the shit ones either. I'm talking rare vintage issue comic books still in their original wrappers, the stuff that fanboy hard-ons are made of. And they are all for him, apparently. Which... wow. Someone has not only done their research but put some serious time and effort into it too. And, um, spent ass loads of money as well. 

Which... is flattering? Or something? Stiles isn't really sure how he should feel about it. He hasn't actually given it much thought, seeing as he is having a nerdgasm over the rare vintage issue freaking comic books that magically appeared at his door. 

And, um, maybe he misses pack movie night because of it? And maybe Derek shows up at his window, growling like it's the end of the world? And maybe Stiles squees like the fanboy he is and drags Derek inside and raves about said comic books like some newly born again Christian ranting about the second coming of Christ? 

Yeah...

That might have happened.

Anyway. 

Stiles isn't exactly sure how much time he spends detailing the wondrous miracle that is his beautiful, magical gift of comics, but Derek doesn't snarl or snap at him or anything. In fact, he seems oddly indulgent. And does that weird scenting shit again-- this time just his neck, thank baby Jesus. Stiles is sure that having a fully human Derek rub his face against Stiles's crotch would end in the most awkward and uncomfortable situation of all time. So, yeah, it's a good thing that Derek just, you know, sniffs and licks at his neck. Because all that does is make Stiles squeak. And that's pretty par for the course as far as his interactions with Derek have been going lately.

And, best of all, Stiles doesn't get into any trouble at all for bailing on a pack activity. 

Best. Night. Ever.

*

"I think I'm in love," Stiles sighs a month or so later. He's sitting at Derek's dining room table, resting his chin in his hand as he idly draws figure eights in his soup with his spoon. 

The entire room freezes and someone lets out a distressed whine, but Stiles is too out of it to notice. Instead he just keeps smiling, staring off into space. 

"Come again," Lydia asks, her voice tight with something Stiles can't be bothered to identify.

Stiles gives her a besotted look. "Love, dude. I think I'm in it. Like, for real this time. Not the way I thought I was with you back in the day, or the serious case of lust I had for Danny. But _love_ love. You know?" He sighs again and totally misses the growl coming from Derek's direction. "He's amazing. Like, I've never met anyone so amazing in my life. It's like someone took all my hopes and dreams and made them into a person just for me. And, best of all, I think he loves me too. All the signs seem to point to that, anyway." He gives the room one of the dopey smiles that he can't help but have on his face these days. "I don't think I've ever been happier in my life."

There is a loud snarl and then a crash and Stiles is snapped out of the haze he's been in for the last, oh, three days. "What?" he asks as he blinks, eyes darting to the end of the table, where Derek was a moment before but now is Derek-less and covered in broken glass and soup. 

"You should probably go," Scott says in a hushed undertone, his eyes flashing yellow. "There's," he bites his lip, "Look, just go. It's pack business. And don't give me crap about you being pack right now, because you are, we all know you are, but if you don't leave right now someone is going to get hurt and that someone is probably going to be you."

Stiles blinks again, then nods before obeying. Because living with the pack as long as he has has taught him not to argue in life or death situations. And this? This is totally one of those, if the claw marks marring the statin finish of the table are any indication.

* 

Thing is, Stiles can’t even be bothered by what went down at Derek’s house. He’s just too happy. 

This thing with his secret admirer is pretty much the best thing to ever happen to him. The comic books? Not even the best part. Not even in the Top Ten Best Parts. Because his secret admirer? Gets his shit done. For serious. The man knows all of Stiles’s weaknesses in a way that would be creepy if it wasn’t so awesome. 

And, sure, it sucks that Derek got all weird and possessive about it and wolfed out or whatever, but that's just how he gets when he thinks that someone might be encroaching on his pack. He went total ape shit when Lydia wanted to date outside of the pack and then did a repeat performance of crazy when Jackson asked to do the same.

So having him be less than pleased about Stiles being in love makes a strange sort of sense. After all, Stiles _is_ pack, even if he's just the Omega. And Derek will get over it, in a week or two. Or maybe a month. A year tops. Whatever. Point is, Derek won't flip out forever. And Stiles can just, you know, avoid him while he's still in Crazy Land.

Or at least, he ought to be able to avoid him. Expect Derek is suddenly everywhere. Seriously. Everywhere. It's like it was way back when Scott first got turned and Derek was Mr. Creepy-Shadow-Lurker. Which is just ridiculous. Because, come on. Stiles is allowed to have a little romance in his life. He is. It's not fair that everyone else in the pack gets to be with someone and Stiles doesn't. 

Okay, so _Derek_ isn't with anyone else either, but that's because _Derek_ is made of issues and emotional constipation and so he doesn't count at all. 

Whatever, the point is, how is Stiles's secret admirer, _who he loves_ , supposed to reveal himself when Derek is playing the part of a creepy Lifetime Original Movie stalker boyfriend? 

"Dude," he snaps, after about two weeks of this nonsense, when Derek magically shows up in his asle at the Stater Bros. "What is your issue? Seriously. You need to stop with the stalking, Derek. It's not healthy."

Derek doesn't say anything, just sort of growls because he is tragic and broken and never learned to use his words.

"Dude," Stiles says again, but this time with a sigh because Derek starts whining. Seriously _whining_ and his eyes are all puffy and he looks like he's about to cry and that is just plain _wrong_. 

So Stiles abandons his shopping cart and bundles Derek into his Jeep and drives him home, where he curls up next to him in bed and pets him the way he's seen Derek do for the other pack members when they need it. And Derek? He wraps his arms tight around Stiles, buries his face in the junction of Stiles's neck and shoulder and sobs like his heart is broken. Which, honestly, is like a knee to the balls. 

"Shhh," Stiles soothes, running a hand through Derek's hair. "It's alright. You don't have to worry, I'm not leaving the pack. I'll never leave the pack. You'll always have me. You know that, right?" He scratches gently at the base of Derek's neck, his heart aching at the shudders that are running through the older man. "I'm not leaving you, Derek," he promises and ignores the way Derek is mouthing at his neck, worrying it like a chew toy. 

They stay curled up together for hours, until Stiles's throat is raw from talking and the sun has long since left the sky. They stay that way until Lydia finds them, her eyes worried and her lips pressed tight.

"He's taking it harder than we thought," she says, her voice quiet so as not to wake the sleeping Alpha.

Stiles nods. "I didn't know it would hit him this hard," he says. "Actually, I didn't think it would bother him at all. I guess I should have realized it would. I am pack, after all, even if I am just the Omega. And he gets so weird where outsiders are concerned."

She gives him a strange look. "Are you really in love, Stiles?" 

He nods again. "I think so. Or, at least, I think I have the potential to be. If he ever actually comes out and announces his intentions."

Lydia's face contorts with some unknown emotion, then smoothes out. "Well, I'm happy for you. No matter what problems it might cause with the pack, I'm happy for you. Alright?"

"Alright," Stiles agrees. Stiles wants to ask her what she means by “problems it might cause with the pack” but then Derek moves against him, restless in his sleep, and Stiles decides his questions can wait. He waves Lydia away. "Wake me up before seven, would you? I have class at eight." 

She nods and then exits the room, closing the door quietly behind her, leaving Stiles with nothing but his thoughts and an unhappy Alpha for company.

* 

There are marks in the morning. Big ones. Big enough that nothing Stiles owns could possibly hide them, so he doesn't even try. Just brazens it out because... well... what else is he supposed to do? He gets a lot of winks and whistles and way-to-gos from random people at the J.C. and earns a raised eyebrow from his professor, which makes him sort of want to sink into the ground, but, worst of all, is that after that the notes and gifts from his secret admirer just stop. 

And that sucks so freaking much. It makes Stiles angry and unhappy and even the fact that Derek has come to grips with reality and stopped stalking him doesn't make him feel any better. 

But, really, he shouldn't be surprised. Of course the massive lovebites on his neck made his secret admirer back off. Of course. They would make anyone back off. And it's not fair because all he was doing was comforting his freaking Alpha who doesn't give a damn about him like that and it wasn't even like he had any fun at all getting marked up. No, because he's Stiles, so of course he gets the biggest, gnarliest lovebites in the history of the world from a freaking sour wolf who happened to be crying a river at the time and not even conscious of what he was doing. 

Fuck. His. Life. 

Seriously. 

*

Stiles does not mope about, no matter what anyone else might say on the subject. And he isn't avoiding the pack either. He just... doesn't feel up to seeing anyone right now. Not when his whole body feels like it is made of disappointment and woe. But, thankfully, no one seems to call him on it. Not even Derek. 

But then, Derek is probably just as embarrassed as he is over the whole unintentional marking thing. Because, wow. The looks the rest of the pack gave him when he got up that morning... Stiles has been spending a good deal of his suddenly free time not thinking about those looks. Because thinking about it just gives him a headache and makes him unhappy all over again. 

So yeah. Life sort of totally sucks for Stiles right now because Danny just laughs whenever he calls and he can't talk to the pack and the hell he can mention any of this to his dad and yeah. 

Life sucks. 

A lot.

And it goes right on sucking for about two weeks. And then, like a gift from god, there is a knock on his door and when he opens it, there is a vase full of red and yellow Chrysanthemums and Forget-Me-Nots, which Stiles is just nerd enough to know the meaning of, and on the card is a love poem. A sorta disturbing one, but a love poem nonetheless and, really, anyone in love with Stiles needs to be a little disturbed anyway.

He reads it aloud, his voice suddenly raw and his chest tight.

_Sonnet XVII_

_I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,  
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.  
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,  
in secret, between the shadow and the soul._

_I love you as the plant that never blooms  
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;  
thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,  
risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body._

_I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.  
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;  
so I love you because I know no other way_

_than this: where I does not exist, nor you,  
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,  
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep. _

_-Pablo Neruda_

He contemplates the words for a moment, his brain picking at their meaning, his heart hammering in his chest. Then lets his eyes flick down to the final line of text, separate, but still a part of the whole:

_I will love you even unto death._

Which... yeah. Disturbing. But in a good way. In a way that makes Stiles smile for the first time in weeks. Stiles traces his fingers over the words, feeling hope flutter back to life in his chest. Because, _yes_. This is still happening. This is still something he can have.

* 

Not that things go smoothly for Stiles after that. Dude, of course they don't. This is _Stiles_. Nothing in his life is ever smooth or straightforward or _easy_ at all. No way, no how.

Instead things are all twisty turvy and his secret admirer stays secret and Stiles is pretty much on the edge of his seat waiting for something to happen.

And what does happen? Not at all what Stiles was expecting. 

Not something that Stiles would have expected to happen in a million years. Even if he had access to an Infinite Improbability Drive. 

Because, yeah. 

In what universe does Derek loving him make sense at all?

*

The answer to that question is this one. 

Weird, right? 

Even weirder than Derek sniffing at his balls. And Derek stalking him for years. And Derek sobbing into his shoulder as he _mate marked_ him.

And, also, what the honest to god fuck? Mate marking? How is that even a thing? Like, really? _Mate marking_? How is that even supposed to make sense? 

And how can someone do that to an totally clueless someone else?

These are all questions that really ought to have answer that Stiles can access without having to talk to any of the following:

1\. Scott  
2\. Jackson  
3\. Lydia  
4\. Allison  
5\. Danny  
6\. Any of the other assorted pack members

And, especially:

7\. Derek

Who is his freaking _mate_ whether Stiles likes it or not and is also somehow his secret admirer as well. 

What. The. Fuck.

*

So... maybe Stiles freaks out a little bit. Or more than a little bit. More like the biggest freak out to ever freak out in the history of ever because his whole world view has been shifted, all of his history rewritten, and he has no idea whatsoever about how to deal with any of it. 

People tend to freak out about things like that. It's not that strange. Not that strange at all.

And if anyone says anything different, well that's just because they are freaking emotionally constipated broken werewolf Alphas who never learned to use their words like real people do and so have to be all mysterious and bizarre and go about this whole pining-with-a-side-order-of-courtship thing totally ass backwards. The end.

*

For the record, though, Stiles isn't freaking out because he's not happy about any of it. Totally the opposite. Because, it turns out, Stiles sorta always had a thing for Derek. A deeply repressed thing because he was totally afraid his balls were going to ripped off if he looked at Derek the wrong way, let alone let it slip out that he had inappropriate feelings for him. A thing that came roaring to the forefront of his life the second he let himself stop, you know, repressing it. 

Strange what you find out about yourself when people you thought you knew super well surprise you with heartfelt confessions of love and look at you with glowing, hope filled eyes and wow. Stiles has never been so happy in his life.

Or at least he hasn't been since he finished freaking out. 

Which... well. What do you know. 

Happiness. And love. Stiles life is filled with happiness. And love. It’s freaking unbelievable. How is this even his life right now?

Seriously, it sort of feels like some ridiculous fever dream and that at any moment he will wake up and find himself back to being the little Omega who could with no love life to speak of and very little potential for future happiness on the horizon. 

But it’s not a dream. It’s real. It belongs to him for always, or so everything he’s learned about werewolves and their tendencies to mate for life lead him to believe.

And how awesome is that? Super awesome. Because Stiles mate is _Derek_.

 _Derek_. Who just so happens to be a super hot, super strong, super flexible Alpha werewolf.

Also, having a super hot, super strong, super flexible Alpha werewolf for your mate? Totally one the best life choices ever. And not just because the sex is borderline illegal amazing either. But because super hot, super strong, super flexible Alpha werewolves are also stealth cuddlers and know all of your favorite things and want to wrap you up in love and happiness and shower you with random gifts and make your feel special and treasured every day of your life.

Who wouldn't want a super hot, super strong, super flexible Alpha werewolf if that is the goodie bag they come with?

No one, that's who.

Even if it does take them nearly three years to get around to telling you that they love you more than moonbeams and rainbows and hot apple pie. And even if they go about telling you in the most complicated, backwards, breaks-your-heart-when-you-look-back-on-it way. 

Because the end result is a lifetime of bliss with a mate who knows everything about you, even the really weird bits you try to hide from people until they are too enmeshed in your life to just back out of it when they them find out. And they love you just the same. Even after knowing all of your fractures and fault lines and wow. This is pretty much the best thing to ever happen to Stiles ever.

 _Derek_ is pretty much the best thing to ever happen to Stiles ever.

And Stiles makes a point of telling him so each and every day. Because just because his sour wolf came to him an emotionally constipated broken thing doesn’t mean he has to stay that way. 

After all, just think of the damage that would do the any future pups they might have. 

(PS: if Derek didn’t already know how much Stiles loves him, then hearing him refers to their future chubby cheeked adopted/artificially inseminated babies as “pups” ought to do the trick. Because only the truest of storybook loves can account for Stiles being cool with that. Seriously.)

**Author's Note:**

> So... comments have told me that maybe I should have given more details about what went down with Derek and Stiles and how they worked things out between them... and yeah. I maybe rushed things a bit too much there... So I'm writing a fourth story that will give all the details I skimped on here. Sorry people. D:


End file.
